


133. Sinner

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [59]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Priests, M/M, Mercutio doesn't give a damn, Tybalt is a priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: "Don Mercutio," Tybalt greeted, although the words were sour on his tongue. He remembered saying 'Mercutio' with all the certainty of a child playing with a friend; now he had grown up and knew that even if he didn't have any title Mercutio was still a member of the ruling family and expected to become Prince after his uncle's death. Tybalt was just a simple clergyman without noble blood."Tybalt," Mercutio answered simply, a smile playing on his lips as he walked closer.It made Tybalt bristle and he stood up straight, glaring darkly as Mercutio leaned forward and blew out a candle. He was disrespectful, too familiar, and the way he smiled sent warning clocks ringing throughout Tybalt's mind. Everyone knew he only visited the church when forced to by his uncle, the older priests had said, so what was he doing there so late and by himself?





	133. Sinner

Tybalt gazed upon the rows of burning candles, some having already burned out. They were the last candles in the church still lit, and Tybalt would snuff them out soon enough. First he just wanted to look at them a while. Relax. Enjoy the peace, the silence, the knowledge of being alone.   
  
There was still the smell of incense hanging heavy in the air after the afternoon mass—not strange, considering how it had ended less than half an hour earlier. Father Vincenzo, who had also held the sermon, had said goodbye to the churchgoers while Tybalt started cleaning up. He hadn't been in the church for more than a couple months but everyone was already familiar with how he preferred the task of cleaning up the church after masses rather than spend time talking with the faithful. They all let him do as he pleased, even if he had received several grave warnings about not avoiding doing God's work. Many times Tybalt wished that he was a monk in a secluded monastery instead of a priest in one of the busiest churches in Verona.   
  
He leaned against his broom and sighed, the small gust of air disturbing the nearest candle and almost blowing out the weak flame. Instantly he froze and held his breath, letting the flickering flame recover its strength before he breathed out carefully. He would put out all the candles, just not yet.   
  
The sound of steps was surprising, and Tybalt turned around with raised eyes, wondering if any of the other priests had forgotten something or had come to fetch him for some reason. Instead, he saw Mercutio Escalus—his shape and posture making him unmistakable even in the weak light—the Prince's nephew. Tybalt had seen him accompanying his uncle to mass every now and then, where he sat obviously and shamelessly ignoring everything going on around him, but they hadn't talked. The memories of when they were children, before Tybalt was sent away to join the priesthood, were still too strong.   
  
"Don Mercutio," Tybalt greeted, although the words were sour on his tongue. He remembered saying 'Mercutio' with all the certainty of a child playing with a friend; now he had grown up and knew that even if he didn't have any title Mercutio was still a member of the ruling family and expected to become Prince after his uncle's death. Tybalt was just a simple clergyman without noble blood.   
  
"Tybalt," Mercutio answered simply, a smile playing on his lips as he walked closer.   
  
It made Tybalt bristle and he stood up straight, glaring darkly as Mercutio leaned forward and blew out a candle. He was disrespectful, too familiar, and the way he smiled sent warning clocks ringing throughout Tybalt's mind. Everyone knew he only visited the church when forced to by his uncle, the older priests had said, so what was he doing there so late and by himself? Disturbing Tybalt's peace and quiet. What nerve he had.   
  
"If you wanted to speak with Father Vincenzo I'm afraid he has gone to prepare tomorrow morning's reading. Is there something I can help you with?" Tybalt asked in a polite tone, even though he wanted to curse and tell Mercutio exactly where he could go.   
  
Mercutio hummed and blew out another candlelight. There were about a dozen and a half left, most of which would burn out within minutes, and the light was getting weaker with each burned out candle. It was tempting to chase Mercutio out of the building with help of the broom, but instead Tybalt watched the light dance across Mercutio's face as he straightened and turned. In his memories Mercutio was a wide-eyed youth with an everlasting smirk—not attractive, not back then, but with hints about what would come. The man in front of him still had traces of the boy in him, but he had filled out the long limbs and grown into the slightly large face, and Tybalt didn't doubt that he easily turned heads wherever he went. Tybalt himself had trouble looking away, and Mercutio's smile was twisting his insides in ways few people had. It was pleasant. It was dangerous.   
  
"You've been back in the city for a few months now, haven't you?" Mercutio asked instead of answering Tybalt. Cocking his head he placed a hand on his hip and continued, "How do you feel about it so far? Has much changed from what you remember? I can imagine it has. It has been, what, nine, ten years? You were just a child when you left and now you come back a grown man. A _priest_ , of all things! I would never have imagined that. A blacksmith, happy to take a hammer to steel, or a city guard who could spread terror in the hearts of everyone considering committing a crime. A carpenter, a potter, or an armorer. Perhaps even a sculptor. I could imagine plenty of professions for you, but a priest? That was far beyond what I could stretch my good graces to imagine."   
  
The sound of Mercutio's bright laughter made Tybalt clench his jaw and he took a deep breath, just like he had been taught. He had to learn to calm his temper, his teachers had said uncountable times, he was too easily provoked.   
  
"You're really a man now, though."   
  
Tybalt opened his eyes to find that Mercutio had come closer, standing only an arm's length away. His smile sent shivers down Tybalt's back, which Tybalt ignored with all his might. Instead, he set his jaw and stared Mercutio straight in the eyes. It only made Mercutio smile wider.   
  
"I wouldn't have thought anything else, of course," Mercutio continued easily, waving a hand in the air. "No person can avoid the passage of time, so it's only in accordance with nature that you have grown up and become a man. You're 22 now, aren't you? I remember you being almost a year older than me." Mercutio hummed and took another step. "Do you remember when we were children? We were always together, either fighting or playing some game. Do you remember that? You used to make fun of Benvolio and Romeo—the Montague boys, I'm sure you remember them—until I broke your nose. You broke my arm in that fight. Took half a year to fully recover," Mercutio said with a chuckle. Another step.   
  
Tybalt stood his ground, his grip on the broom in his hands tight enough that he idly wondered if the wood would break. He didn't know what to say, and even if he had Mercutio didn't pause long enough for him to get out any words. The distance between them was shortening. The flickering candlelight, along with the still strong smell of incense, gave the situation a strange, otherworldly feeling.   
  
"You came to accept them, though, after that. Sometimes I think you even considered them your friends. And you and me, we were... special." Another step. "You were smaller than me, do you remember that? I was so skinny but taller than anyone else our age. I always gloated about it, holding things out of reach just for the fun of it. You used to kick me in the shins to get me down on the ground, remember? And now you're taller than me. I suppose it is one of fate's blessings." Another step.   
  
Tybalt could see the details of Mercutio's face, even in the weak light, and he felt rooted to the spot. Those eyes stared at him, dark and inscrutable with burning intensity. Every so often he found himself staring at Mercutio's lips, following their movements, drinking in every sound. He didn't know what was happening, but Mercutio's voice seemed magical, keeping his mind blank. Absent-mindedly he realized that he was only taking very shallow breaths, silent breaths, as if he was afraid to disturb the sound of the other man's voice. He didn't want Mercutio to stop talking; it was such a pleasant sound, caressing his skin, his ears, with every soft syllable.   
  
"It is just one of her blessings for you. The height you so desperately wanted when you were younger. Intelligence, because why else would the priests have accepted you, and strength, by the looks of you. And your looks. You have received an appearance like no one ever thought you would. You were far from attractive, remember that? Your face and your nose were too long, you had such hollow cheeks, and your ears were too large. The girls used to make fun of you, and they were not kind, I remember that. If only they saw you now." Mercutio reached out a hand and lightly swept a lock of Tybalt's hair behind his ear. He was so close, close enough that Tybalt heard him as clearly as if he was talking when he leaned forward to whisper, "Do you remember that time we were playing hide-and-seek, and we hid in that house? The one everyone claimed was haunted. We were both jumping at the slightest sound, clinging to each other. Do you remember our _kiss_?"   
  
Tybalt closed his eyes with a shiver as Mercutio breathed the last word into his ear. Of course he remembered, it was the most vibrant memory of his youth. His first kiss, with the boy he claimed as both enemy and friend. He had never been able to make himself forget it or even make himself _want_ to forget it.   
  
"I wonder, have you kissed someone else since then? You were sent away shortly after that. Tell me, Tybalt, what have you been up to all those lonely nights as you were growing into a man? Did you think of me? Did you remember our kiss? Did you kiss any other boys? I'm sure you have. Everyone knows what takes place between growing boys when they're left alone too long."   
  
Tybalt fought to stop his whimper as Mercutio lightly bit his earlobe. One hand was trailing up Tybalt's arm, the other already a warm presence on Tybalt's neck. Tybalt's mind was hazy, full of the sensations surrounding him, of Mercutio's voice and his touch, the incense, the flickering light, the feeling of lips on his skin. It was like he was drunk. The only thing in clear in his mind was the _want_. He wanted to hear Mercutio's voice, wanted to feel him, wanted to be touched, wanted more, more, _more_.   
  
"Or did your teachers teach you more than just the word of God? Everyone knows what the so-called 'holy men' do when no one is looking. Did one of them set his eyes on you perhaps? Tell me, did someone teach you all the pleasures of the bed?"   
  
The shock of the words coming out of Mercutio's mouth brought Tybalt back to clarity with a screech, and his eyes flew open. Anger, shock, indignation all gathered within him, mixing into a ball of red-hot rage. The broom clattered to the floor before he realized he had let go of it, his hands having moved to push Mercutio back. His face was burning, much like his body was, and even if the want was still there his mind was clear again—as clear as it could be, with Mercutio so close, his skin so soft, his smile so sharp, his eyes so dark, his lips so enticing.   
  
"What are you- how _dare_ you say such things, in the very house of God! You speak nothing but lies, filthy tales and rumors that have been made up by people seeking to besmirch the Church. How dare you come here and accuse- _out_! Get out of here!"   
  
Instead of reacting how normal people would, or at least turn and disappear, Mercutio grinned. "Is that a yes or no? You will have to clarify, I'm afraid."   
  
If he hadn't let go of the broom he would have beat the other man to death with it. Instead, Tybalt took several steps back and turned on his heels. "I will not listen to you one more minute! If you're not leaving then I will."   
  
"Are you really sure about that?" Now the stubborn man followed him, staying close even when Tybalt increased his speed. He was not running away, did not run. "You seemed happy to see me again and talk with me, just like I was happy to meet with you. Do you really claim that you have no interest in rekindling our, shall we say, relationship?"   
  
"I have nothing to say to you!"   
  
Tybalt wasn't expecting the hand that grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, pushing him up against the wall just before he could get to the nearest door. Mercutio moved in quickly, pressing his body up against Tybalt's, effectively trapping him. When Tybalt opened his mouth to curse at him he leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed and hot.   
  
It was so far from what Tybalt had expected, and he was so full of emotions, his body shaking from the force of them, that he responded without thinking, moaning and kissing back. He wanted it so bad, the closeness, the warmth, the continuation of where they had left off all those years ago. His hands were digging into Mercutio's clothes—silk, richly decorated, so different in every way from the plain cassock Tybalt himself wore—while Mercutio ran his fingers through Tybalt's hair. They were both breathing harder when Mercutio broke the kiss.   
  
"It's okay, we don't have to talk at all," he said hoarsely.   
  
"You-" Tybalt slowly opened his eyes and tried to make his fingers unclench from Mercutio's clothes. Where had all that discipline he'd been taught disappeared? Where had all his poise and calm gone, just because of one man? "You need to leave."   
  
"But I don't want to."   
  
Bluntly, easily, selfishly. Tybalt scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, finally willing his hands to detach from Mercutio. He shook his head, ignoring the way his hands itched for the warmth. Shame burned within him, and Mercutio's easy refusal to stop his antics only made it worse.   
  
"We are in the middle of God's house! Two men! What you are talking about, what you're doing, it's nothing but sin. A small sinful action born from curiosity made when we were children is one thing, and one I have repented for, but there is no possibility of claiming ignorance here and now. I am a priest, devoted to God and his teachings. The _pleasures_ of the human body are forbidden for every faithful, but as I have devoted my life to God I have also forsworn the very act of procreation." Finding strength in the familiar ground Tybalt managed to open his eyes and push Mercutio back. He couldn't look at his face, though.   
  
Mercutio took hold of Tybalt's hand before he managed to pull away, and Tybalt found it was easier to stare at their linked hands than to raise his gaze. He feared that if he faced Mercutio—he was so beautiful, he was half-remembered dreams of desire, he was warmth and pleasure and promises—he wouldn't be able to resist any longer. The only escape he could think of was to keep God in his thoughts and leave the situation as quickly as possible, leave the tempting demon behind. In daylight, his mind would be clearer and his resolution would be strong again.   
  
"If it's the action of procreation you are fearing you don't need to worry, since we are two males, as you so acutely pointed out." Mercutio's voice was bright and amused, but his hand was soft and gentle as it held Tybalt's. "This here, what I am proposing to you, doesn't have to be sinful. A union between two people is a beautiful thing, and it can help in many ways. It creates intimacy, a feeling of trust, between them, and joy. You build a connection with your partner, one that can greatly enrich both partner's worlds. Also, if you look at it in another way it is really not that different from other joyful activities. You can study together with a dear friend, or have a heated discussion, or an energizing bout of sparring, and the results are not much different from when you lay together." Mercutio stroked the back of Tybalt's hands, small circling movements that were as hypnotizing as they were pleasant. "There is also the matter of men needing to have a release every now and then. Going too long without can be harmful to the body, I've heard. Isn't it then simply the duty of a friend to help? Let me be that friend for you," Mercutio said with a low, soft voice that seemed to caress Tybalt's skin.   
  
Tybalt swallowed heavily and tried to ignore the growing heat between his legs. God above, he wanted. But he shouldn't. He couldn't.   
  
"If it's a friend you're after you should still have the company of the Montagues, do you not?" Tybalt found his voice too hoarse, too obviously affected, and cleared his throat. He tried not to think about why his own words bothered him so. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind helping you out with your problem. And if not them, then I am sure there are plenty of others willing to be your _friend_. I don't see why you have come to me."   
  
Mercutio chuckled and reached out a dangerously gentle hand, stroking Tybalt's cheek. "I have missed you," he said simply.   
  
It was the earnestness in Mercutio's voice that proved too much for Tybalt to resist. Almost helplessly he raised his eyes and looked into Mercutio's face, and felt his resolve chip away. He could still see the boy in Mercutio, the beautiful and vibrant boy that he had been so drawn to and missed so much, but the man he had grown to become was pulling Tybalt to him like a moth to a flame. Mercutio was still the brazen, selfish, captivating person he had been as a child, but he had changed in how he used those qualities to entrap people. He had far more patience than he used to have, for one, and the capability of being gentle.   
  
It shouldn't be something noteworthy. After all, Tybalt himself had changed after his time away, learning to listen and help, how to put his ego away and act according to what the situation required, and most importantly—the very reason he was sent away to join the priesthood in the first place—how to quell his anger and keep his calm. There had been too many accidents because of his temper, and he couldn't allow himself to lose control.   
  
There hadn't been any incidents for years. He had been close to losing his temper more than once but had always managed to keep his resolve. How could it be that the person standing in front of him could take that away from him, his resolve, his discipline, so easily? He couldn't lose control of himself, couldn't let go of his control.   
  
But he wanted, more than he had ever wanted something. Mercutio was looking at him, his hands warm and his eyes earnest and his mouth promising. He would be ready to take Tybalt into his arms and hold him and teach him everything Tybalt only knew the theory of. All he had to do was allow him.   
  
God forgive him, he couldn't resist.   
  
Before he could think about what he was doing Tybalt took a step forward and kissed Mercutio, focusing on the warmth of his hand. It was steady, it was a comfort, it was the touch he wanted. When Mercutio moaned and pulled him closer Tybalt closed his eyes and followed, melting into Mercutio's body. The kisses he shared with Mercutio were so different from the ones he had sneaked with other boys late at night as they tried to remain undiscovered, and he wondered why that was.   
  
"If I had known you would fall for me if I told you I missed you it would have been the first words out of my mouth," Mercutio said with a breathless chuckle when they finally separated. He looked at Tybalt for a beat, then pulled him into another kiss, a ferocious and hungry one that made Tybalt feel like Mercutio tried to suck out his very essence through his mouth.   
  
If it meant he continued to kiss Tybalt like that Tybalt wouldn't mind.   
  
When Mercutio moved his hand downwards, bolder than he had been before, Tybalt jerked and grabbed his hand.   
  
" _No!_ We can't do- we're in the open, with anyone able to see us if they happen to walk through the doors." If he mentioned how he felt like the statues were all looking at them Mercutio would laugh, Tybalt was sure of it. "If we are doing- if we're doing this then we need to move."   
  
Mercutio pouted, but then shrugged and looked around. The glint in his eyes when he turned back should have made Tybalt suspicious, but it only made him bite his lip hard to try and control the fire in his veins. "I know where we can go. We will be out of sight and left in peace!"   
  
Letting Mercutio pull him by the hand brought Tybalt back to when they were children and Mercutio had just come up with a new prank or had something he desperately wanted to show. He used to pull everyone along with him then too, without regards to if they could keep up with his long legs. It felt strange, being able to keep up with him so easily, but at least Mercutio still had the unfortunate habit of forgetting the person he was pulling along. It meant that he hadn't changed too much.   
  
Unfortunately, his mind was still as shrewd as ever, Tybalt found himself thinking bitterly as he realized exactly where Mercutio was heading.   
  
"No. No, I will not- I refuse!"   
  
"What? Why?" Mercutio turned around with a bright smile. "It was just finished the other day, right? I can't imagine it has been used yet. Why don't we consecrate it, combine two special occasions into one?"   
  
"It's the _confessional_." Tybalt stared hard at Mercutio, feeling the urge to do less pleasant things to him rise. "You cannot honestly suggest we do such a- such a sinful act in the actual confessional booth?"   
  
"Why not? It's just as good as any place." Mercutio tutted and strutted over to open one of the doors and peer inside. He didn't seem affected by Tybalt's glare as he sat down on the bench inside and smiled widely. "See, there's plenty of room in here. Since we're going to be so intimate we can easily fit."   
  
"You- get out of there." Tybalt crossed his arms over his chest and glared as darkly he could.   
  
"Come here and make me," Mercutio answered, opening his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.   
  
Tybalt growled and marched forward into the booth, grabbing Mercutio's shoulders. He was taken aback when instead of resisting Mercutio practically jumped to his feet, but he was less surprised when Mercutio closed his arms around him and pulled him into another deep kiss. The hunger woke within Tybalt again and he groaned before pressing up against Mercutio as he kissed back.   
  
Pressed against each other as they were Tybalt could feel Mercutio’s lips twist, and suddenly he was swallowing chuckles rather than moans. Pulling back he shook his head at Mercutio, desperately ignoring the growing part of his mind that wondered if he had messed up somewhere. Mercutio’s grin was wide, showing his teeth, but he couldn't see if it was mocking him or not.

“Why are you laughing?”

Mercutio shook his head and pressed his lips against Tybalt’s, quickly, shrugging as best he could with his arms wrapped tightly around Tybalt’s shoulders. “Must I have a reason? Try this, then: amusement, to imagine what others would think if they saw us; delight, because it's not every day I get to fuck in such grand places such as this; or, delight. Because I finally have you, in my arms, right where I have imagined you so many times.” He flashed a bright smile, a quick wink. “Choose whichever you prefer.”

Opening his mouth Tybalt tried to pick his words, but then he gave up and simply claimed Mercutio’s mouth again, relishing the happy noise he got. All he wanted was to feed the fire, feel Mercutio’s body beneath his hands, feel his shivers and twitches and learn what made his back arch. Whatever worries he might have had were decisively put away for the moment.

“How- what do we-"

Mercutio cut him off with a, surprisingly gentle, kiss. His fingers teased along Tybalt’s jaw, leaving invisible tracks that burned, a fire both from within and outside of him. Tybalt wanted nothing more than to incline his head, follow those fleeting touches.

But there was a thought, itching at the back of his head and refusing to be ignored, and Tybalt breathed out deeply. Removing his hands from where they held onto Mercutio’s hips was difficult, made harder by Mercutio’s discontent face, but with iron in his blood as taught to him Tybalt grabbed Mercutio’s hands and dragged him out of the confessional.

“Wait, Tybalt? What are you-”

“I told you,” Tybalt ground out between clenched teeth. “I will not desecrate the confessional in this way. I will _not_.”

“Then what exactly are you planning?” Mercutio’s tone was honeyed, but Tybalt could hear the undercurrent of incensed dissatisfaction. It didn’t help that Mercutio’s fingers were biting into his hand.

When he stopped and turned around Mercutio’s face was as blank as Tybalt had predicted, but Tybalt didn’t hesitate in stepping closer and kissing him, his hand wrapping around the side of Mercutio’s neck as he poured as much of the fire as possible into the kiss. No more were there any concerns about who might see them; all he wanted was to ease Mercutio’s bad mood, remove his sudden stiffness, prove to him that the heat he had awakened inside of Tybalt was still very much alive. And judging by the breathless, stunned look on Mercutio’s face as Tybalt pulled back, he might very well have succeeded.

“I will not defile the house of God,” Tybalt explained as he once again began moving, pulling a far eager Mercutio with him, “so I will take you to my room in the clergy house.”

“Oh, so you are willing to defile your own room? That is good to know.” Mercutio’s thumb stroked the back of Tybalt’s hand, the innocent gesture somehow managing to send shivers down Tybalt’s back. “I suppose I will not complain, although it would have been fun to maneuver inside the booth. A bed is always to prefer, after all. I’ll teach you why,” Mercutio purred.

Tybalt swallowed and his feet started moving faster, as though of their own will. He desperately hoped they wouldn’t meet anyone on the way.

**Author's Note:**

> So. No smut in the end. Unless people ask for it enough that I'll have to write a second part of course *wink wink nudge nudge*


End file.
